Trapped
by OmegaGM
Summary: What is it like to be trapped and yet be free to do whatever you please? What is it like to be constantly hurting yet feel nothing at all? What is life? What is death? What is existence?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Shards of glass flew through the air, alongside a splash of scarlet blood. The boy looked down at his now gashed hand, wondering why, yet again, he couldn't feel any pain. Deciding to worry about that later, he made his way into the other room, all the while doing his best to notice the sharp blades digging into his bare feet. He sat down on the bed, the only piece of furniture in the strangely featureless room and noticed the questions that were scrawled upon the wall. He remembered that he was the one who had written those words, how long ago, he did not know. But he knew that there was a reason he wrote them, and that reason was that they were the only things that could keep him from going insane.

He read the first, "What is your name?"

"I honestly don't know."

"How old are you?"

He glanced down at his naked body for a moment before replying, "Early teens."

"How long have you been here?"

The boy was getting impatient with his apparent lack of memories, "How the fuck should I know?" he spat angrily.

A large thud came from behind the boy. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that his box had arrived, as they did every morning. He got up from the bed and walked casually over to the box. Opening it, he found the same thing he always found. Clothes. He had no need for them, as temperature did not exist in this world. Food and drink. His body required no sustenance in this world so he cast them aside. The package. He needed that. Every day he received a package and everyday he killed himself with its contents, only to awaken the next day as if nothing had happened.

He was trapped. Trapped in an endless cycle of life and death. He set about bludgeoning himself with the mace he had found inside the package, knowing full well that his efforts were futile. The walls were painted a new shade of crimson as the whole world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Life.

The boy awoke, noting that he had a slight headache. The headache had gone as quickly as it arrived, however, and he began the monotonous task of repeating his day again. He answered the questions, counted to 100 for entertainment and finally came to the supplies. Ignoring the clothes, food and drink, he immediately opened the package. Inside, he found a rope.

"Well that's boring." He muttered, "I hanged myself only last week!"

As he was about to walk away, he spotted a note attached to the lid of the package.

"That's weird." He said, "That's never happened before."

He read it.

"You see the hurt, but cannot feel. And now you will become a meal."

The boy had no time to wonder as to what this meant because the next thing he knew, the rope flung itself at him, hissing. It coiled itself around his entire body, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He could feel it's leathery skin twisting around his neck, binding him. He could see its emerald eyes, glaring at him, piercing into his very soul. This was no rope. It was a snake, and a large one at that.

The boy had just enough time to come to this conclusion before the snake's venomous fangs struck him. Piercing his cornea, they sunk deeper into his eye, spilling blood everywhere. A drop of blood landed in the snake's eye, blinding it. This gave the boy a chance to look around for something to protect himself with. He remembered that, just the other day, he had shattered the mirror in the bathroom. He reached in and grabbed a particularly sharp piece of glass.

Using this as a weapon, he lashed out at the snake, carving deep gashes into it's back. This caused the animal to pull back, to attempt a retreat. Yet the damage had been done, the boy had lost a lot of blood and as the snake slithered silently away, it carried with it the boy's eye, impaled on its tooth like a head on a pike. Everything faded into darkness as the boy realised that, throughout the struggle, he had been crying out in agony.

Pain. That was new.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Life.

The boy awoke. But this time he was not in the safe, familiar room like usual. Instead he was in a grand hall, slumped against the wall. A voice echoed around this hall.

"_You are free. I have helped."_

The boy wondered as to why he was in this place and, almost as a reply to his thoughts, the voice came again.

"_Your eye has been hurting, and now you will see."_

Having had enough of riddles, the boy screamed. And again. And again. The voice came a final time.

"_Your eye is the key, and now you must see."_

"But what does that mean?" the boy cried out, crying in frustration.

Then he remembered. The shard of glass he had attacked the snake with. He still held it in his hand. He decided to test if he could feel pain like before. Cutting his wrist open, he realised that he could. Smiling at the thought of finally being free, he cut large chunks of flesh from his arm, spilling blood over his whole body, all the while laughing maniacally. Looking at the bloodied mess of mangled flesh and gleaming white bone, the boy remembered what the voice had told him.

He studied the shard of glass he held in one hand closely, whilst feeling around his empty eye socket with the other. Slowly, he came to understand why he had been able to feel pain that time with the snake. It had bitten his eye. The one place on his whole body he had never attempted to hurt. The realisation came to him as if the whole world had smashed into his chest. The eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul. So, when the snake had bitten his eye, perhaps it had bitten his soul as well. Leaving him able to be hurt. Unprotected.

He brought the broken shard up to his face, admiring its beauty. Making his decision, he sunk it deep into his eye, the only one he had left. Blood erupted from his eye, pouring down his face and arm. He relished the pain. Loved it. The world began to fade into darkness as the blood poured freely from both eye sockets and the boy departed his terrible life crying tears of crimson blood.


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue

The boy was slumped against the wall, arms by his sides, legs crossed. His head hung loosely down at his chest, both of his eyes gone with only blood in their place. A shard of glass lay close to his open hand, an eye attached to the pointed end.

Apart from the boy there was nothing. Nothing to occupy this grand hall in which he was sat. Certainly no one to mourn his death.

And yet, whilst he was alone, a smile was still spread across his face.

He was finally free.

Free of the room.

Free of the endless cycle.

Free of himself.


End file.
